Longing for Her Forbidden Viking

by Harper St. George

  ‘Give me my sword!’ Somehow Father’s voice rose above the cacophony. He pushed away from the broad tree trunk and stepped in the direction of her brother. But it was as if his legs were too weak to carry him. He faltered and would have fallen had she not put herself under him.

  ‘Galan!’ she called, hoping that her brother could hear her. Father favoured his left side and the whites of his eyes showed. ‘Father, open your eyes.’

  He muttered words, but they were incoherent. As she struggled under his weight to get him seated beneath the tree, he gripped his chest as if trying to claw at something. The anger had completely drained from his face, leaving it the palest white she had ever seen, as if there were no blood left. ‘Father, can you hear me?’

  He nodded, but he still hadn’t opened his eyes. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Aevir approach Galan. He grabbed her brother’s shoulder and pushed him towards her. ‘Protect your sister,’ he shouted.

  Only then did Galan look over at her. He paled when he saw their father and hurried over to them. Aevir took up sentry before their little group huddled at the base of the tree. ‘What happened?’ Galan asked.

  ‘I’m uncertain. He’s had an attack of some kind.’

  Galan helped to lower him on to his back. As the battle raged around them, Father slowly opened his eyes. At first he seemed not to see them, but then his eyes focused on her. ‘Eada.’

  She nearly gasped at the sound of her mother’s name. No one had uttered it for years. ‘Nay, Father, it’s me... Ellan.’

  ‘Eada,’ he whispered again as if he hadn’t heard her. His unfocused gaze settled on her face and he touched the ends of her hair. Perhaps this was why he had never been able to look at Ellan—he had always seen her mother in her face.

  She glanced at Galan. Galan’s brows fit together and he asked, ‘Father, can you hear me?’

  ‘I never stopped caring for you,’ Father said, lost in whatever imagining he was having. ‘You took a part of me when you left and I never got it back.’ His breath ended on a gasp as he struggled to bring air into his lungs.

  Tears on her cheeks, Ellan took his hand. ‘Father?’

  ‘I shouldn’t have sent you away.’ Another ragged breath. ‘I should have been better.’ His hand went limp in Ellan’s. She rubbed her fingers over his palm as if that alone could breathe new life into him. He opened his eyes, but they were mere slits in his face. ‘Forgive me...please?’

  His gaze was on her face, waiting expectantly as the breath rattled out of him. She said the only thing that she could in what was almost certainly his final moment of this life. ‘I forgive you.’

  Father closed his eyes and a strange peace settled over the three of them. A final breath left his body and then he was gone. Hot tears streamed down her face, turning cold before they reached her chin. ‘Father,’ she said past the lump in her throat. Her hands went to his still chest.

  On the other side of him Galan made a choking sound and rose. A moment later he was pulling her to her feet and away to the back of the tree, away from the fighting. ‘Stay here,’ he said and picked up his sword which had fallen forgotten on to the snow as their father had died.

  The clang of steel on steel filled her ears. Galan wiped at his eyes and made to join the fray, but she grabbed his arm and held him back. ‘Nay, Galan. Look.’

  He followed her line of sight to the battle, or what was left of it. It was plain to see that many of the Saxons and Scots had fallen. Not one of the Danes had succumbed. ‘The Danes will win,’ she said. ‘Go now while you can.’

  She pointed to one of the Saxon horses which picked its way through the snow some distance in the opposite direction, either oblivious to the battle or so accustomed to the sounds that he wasn’t bothered by it. When he hesitated, she tightened her grip. ‘You know it’s the only way for you to live. Go now. I can’t lose you, too.’

  ‘Who will protect you?’ asked Galan.

  ‘My husband. Go, the battle is almost over.’

  He glanced towards Aevir, who had just finished off another attacker.

  ‘Go!’ she urged.

  Pulling her against him, he pressed his lips to her temple. ‘You will see to our father?’

  She put her arms around him and squeezed him tight, knowing this would be for the last time. ‘Aye, I’ll see that he gets home to Banford. Please take care of Baldric. Take him and leave the Scots. Leave this senseless war and go somewhere else.’

  Remembering her father’s purse, she pulled away and tugged the pouch free from his belt. The coins inside clanged as she forced it into Galan’s hand. ‘Take this and be safe.’

  ‘Be well, little Sister.’ Galan placed another kiss on her brow.

  ‘I will,’ she said and watched him run towards the horse and mount.

  She kept watching until he had disappeared through the trees. Only then did she notice that the sounds of battle had gradually begun to die away. She turned as Aevir was wiping the sword he held across the snow which was no longer pristine and white. He stopped when he saw her father lying on the ground. Their eyes met and he rose, opening his arms to her.

  Stifling a sob, she ran to him and threw herself into his arms, somehow crying harder when they tightened around her. He crooned softly against her ear and pressed his lips into her hair. ‘I’m sorry, love.’

  She nodded and pulled back, wiping her eyes to ask, ‘Are you hurt?’

  He shook his head and showed her a hand. The knuckles were bloodied and bruised. ‘Just minor cuts and bruises.’ He glanced at her father again. Someone had covered him with a blanket. ‘Ellan, I couldn’t bear that he hit you. If it was—’

  ‘Nay.’ She reached up to touch his face. ‘It wasn’t you. He had been ill and then I think the battle spurred another attack. It was his time.’

  His fingertips lightly traced the place on her cheek where Father had hit her.

  ‘How did Oleif know to come?’

  ‘He arose to get the horses and heard the Saxons coming. He took his horse and hid until we left and then he found our men. Thankfully, they hadn’t risen from their own camp yet and were able to circle back and follow our tracks.’

  ‘Can we go home now?’ she asked, wanting this to be over. Wanting to know with all certainty that he would be hers for ever.

  ‘Aye, we can go home.’ He pulled her against him again, but then stopped. ‘Galan,’ he said as if he had only just remembered her brother’s existence. His head swung left and right as he looked for him.

  ‘Nay,’ she whispered and held him tighter. ‘Please.’ She pressed her face into his chest, aware that this was another potential hurdle between them. There was no question now as to whether Father and Galan had plotted against the Danes. They had committed treason. Galan would be put to death if he were found. She couldn’t bear to know that Aevir was the cause of his death, even if it were justified.

  He tensed, but went still. His heart beat against her once, twice. On the third beat, he put his arms around her again and held her tight. A sigh drained out of him and he kissed her temple. ‘I love you to madness,’ he whispered.

  A grateful sob escaped her and she raised her lips to his.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  They rode through Alvey’s gate long after night had fallen. Aevir had deemed it the best place to keep prisoners since there was a slight chance of retaliation by the Scots. As luck would have it, Jarl Vidar had gone home to Alvey after Rolfe had returned to Banford with good news, so he was there waiting for them.

  Aevir was as tired as he had ever been as he left his horse with a boy in the stable. Taking his wife’s hand, he took the necessary but dreaded steps that would take them inside the hall. Her other hand came over to cover both of their clasped hands as she walked beside him. ‘Aevir, tell me we’ll be fine.’

  He swallowed and looked out over the walls to the tree
s in the distance. ‘We’ll be fine.’ The truth was that he wasn’t entirely certain what would happen. She was officially under the Jarl’s control now that her father was dead. If he wanted, he could refuse to honour their marriage. There had been no witnesses. But he also knew that were that to happen he would leave Alvey with her.

  She stopped walking, forcing him to stop as well. Leaning up, she put her hands on his cheeks and forced him to look at her. ‘Now tell me as if you mean it.’ She gave him a brilliant smile, warming him with the sunshine she carried around inside her. By the gods, he loved her.

  ‘We’ll be fine.’ Even if fine meant that he had to take her out of here by force. He would not give her up.

  She gave him a nod and together they walked inside with Oleif following behind. Aevir’s fingers clasped with hers, he led her to where Jarl Vidar and Lady Gwendolyn sat at the end of their table. The evening meal had long since passed, but the tables were still busy with evening amusements. The Jarl nodded and called a greeting. Lady Gwendolyn beckoned to a serving girl who sat near the hearth. They had likely been apprised of the group’s presence the moment they approached Alvey and had prepared for them.

  Lady Gwendolyn stood and hugged Ellan. Her astute gaze took in their hands and Ellan’s reluctance to let his go, but she didn’t say anything. ‘Welcome back.’ She smiled at Ellan and then turned to Aevir and Oleif. ‘Come. Sit and eat. You look as if you’re famished.’

  The three took their places at the table and the serving girl brought them meat and roasted vegetables. Another brought them mead. It reminded him of the night he had first come to Alvey and met his Ellan. It hadn’t been that long ago, but it felt as if it was a lifetime. So much had changed. He had changed.

  ‘What happened?’ Lady Gwendolyn asked as she settled herself, her pointed gaze on the scratch at his brow where a Scot had hit him with the hilt of his sword.

  If the Jarl and his lady thought it was odd that Ellan had positioned herself at his shoulder without a breath of space between them, no one commented. The Jarl probably thought she was here as his concubine. He had better put a stop to that before the hapless man said something and it fired Ellan’s anger.

  ‘Tolan did not give her up easily?’ Jarl Vidar asked, his brow raised in warning.

  ‘Tolan is bound and ready for questioning.’ They had not been able to save any of the Scots. The few that had lived had run off on their horses rather than be taken. Taking a swallow of his mead for fortification, he launched into all that had happened on their journey.

  ‘I am sorry for your father, Ellan,’ said Lady Gwendolyn when he had finished and reached over to pat her shoulder.

  Ellan nodded. ‘Thank you, Lady.’

  Aevir noticed that his wife avoided looking at the Jarl and reached over under the table to put a hand on her thigh. Squeezing gently, he silently offered her courage.

  ‘What has happened with the Scots at the Banford border? Did Rolfe return?’ he asked.

  Jarl Vidar nodded. ‘The border has been quiet. You won’t believe it, but Rolfe found no sign of the Scots moving south. The only rumblings were of a group of Saxons with a few Scots riding the countryside to drum up support.’ He paused and then said, ‘I’m starting to believe this threat has always been Godric and his sons and the few Scots they had managed to entice to come south. That’s certainly how it appears from what happened to you.’

  ‘I agree,’ Aevir said. ‘I think with Godric gone the threat of attack will die down.’

  They spoke for a while longer on the Scots as the hall slowly cleared out and some of the men bedded down for the night. Finished with his meal, Oleif bid them goodnight. Ellan spoke to tell them what Galan had told her about their dwindling support. It all pointed to the fact that Godric had been an instigator in the Scot and Dane relations. With a solid defence to the northern border, Jarl Vidar seemed inclined to believe that the threat of attack was minimal. The knowledge set Aevir at ease. If he was forced to leave and take Ellan with him, then he wouldn’t be leaving them under the threat of invasion.

  Finally, Aevir said, ‘There is one more thing you should know.’ He squeezed Ellan’s thigh, but she took his hand in hers instead, holding on tight. ‘Ellan and I are married.’

  Jarl Vidar looked stunned while Lady Gwendolyn looked delighted.

  ‘Congratulations,’ said the lady.

  ‘Nay,’ Jarl Vidar said drawing the attention of everyone at the table. Though he did not raise his voice or speak with anger, he spoke with conviction. ‘When? How?’

  ‘Last night,’ Aevir said. ‘We shared a tent during the storm. I gave her my pledge and she accepted it.’

  ‘’Tis true,’ Ellan added. ‘We are married and, while we do apologise for not seeking your approval...we intend to stay married.’

  The Jarl shook his head. ‘It isn’t valid. Aside from the fact that there were no witnesses and no agreement with your protector, Aevir is already betrothed.’

  ‘Vidar.’ Lady Gwendolyn’s voice was soft, but there was an undercurrent of warning. ‘You can’t mean to force that betrothal. There was nothing signed. Jarl Eirik hasn’t even agreed to it yet.’

  ‘True, but he will agree come the spring. I was only to find a suitable warrior and I have.’ He waved his hand towards Aevir.

  ‘You can find another suitable warrior. Aevir is taken,’ said the Lady.

  Ellan flashed her a grateful look, but her spine went rigid when the Jarl addressed her. ‘Are you certain you agreed to this marriage, Ellan? You weren’t coerced or forced?’

  She blushed prettily and gave him a shy smile. ‘Nay, if anyone did any coercing it was me.’

  The Jarl laughed despite himself and Lady Gwendolyn rose and gave her a hug. ‘Come, dear. Let us talk about a proper marriage ceremony.’

  ‘A proper one?’ Ellan repeated with a furrowed brow.

  ‘Oh, aye, we can’t have anyone actually questioning your marriage. Let us plan for a ceremony in front of as many witnesses as we can find.’ With that the two women went off up the stairs to the lord and lady’s chamber.

  Aevir wasn’t surprised to look back and see the Jarl staring at him in disapproval. He had never gone back on his word in his life and the feeling of guilt ate at him, even if it was for Ellan. Even if he wouldn’t do a thing to change his decision. ‘I know that I disappointed you. It wasn’t my intention to not follow through with my duty. I love Ellan and I vow to you that I will take care of her until the end of my days.’

  The Jarl shook his head. ‘What of the things we spoke of in the past? This status you want? There are things you want, Aevir, that marriage to this girl won’t give you. Will you decide in a year, two years, that you’ve given up too much for her? What will happen to her then?’

  Aevir shook his head and smiled. If there was anything he was certain of, it was that he would never regret choosing Ellan. After having nearly lost her, he couldn’t imagine—didn’t want to imagine—life without her. ‘Nay, that is the only thing I know to be true. I will never regret her. I’ve had some time to think about the future. Talk to Tolan and if he tells you Godric was the instigator all along then you’ll need someone trustworthy in Banford to build this new stronghold we need to keep the Scots away. Send me there. I will keep the Scots free of your border and you’ll never have to worry again.’

  ‘And that will be enough for you?’

  ‘That and Ellan.’ He couldn’t wait to build a life with her there.

  They spoke for a while longer, the Jarl challenging him and Aevir reaffirming to himself each time that he had made the right choice. Finally, when everyone else had retired for the night, Aevir found himself climbing the stairs and seeking Ellan out in the small alcove she used to share with her sister. Now it was only her in the small bed alone. Removing his boots, he climbed into the bed and pulled her against him. The act of simply holding her put him at peace
. He could feel the tension and strain of the past several days leave his body as she settled against him.

  ‘I hoped you would find me,’ she whispered, her voice thick with sleep.

  ‘Shh... Go back to sleep.’ He placed a kiss on her temple.

  ‘Has he banished you?’ She was only half-teasing.

  ‘Aye, to Banford and you along with me.’ More seriously he added, ‘Will you be happy there?’

  She turned in his arms and looked up at him in the dark. The only light came from the fire still burning below, but it was enough to see the shadowed outline of her features and her smile. ‘Husband, I will be happy anywhere you are.’

  ‘I don’t deserve you.’ He kissed her until she was breathless. ‘But I am never letting you go.’

  * * *

  The ceremony took place several days later back in the hall in Banford. Lady Gwendolyn and Lord Vidar were both present as were Rolfe and Elswyth. There had been grumblings from Desmond and a few of the other elders, but once Tolan had been found to have been helping Godric, a known traitor, no one could come up with a good reason why Ellan should not marry Aevir.

  Ellan wore a crown of mistletoe and Aevir wore a rich velvet tunic in dark blue. She thought he had never looked so handsome. They exchanged the same vows they had exchanged in the tent, only this time Aevir had found golden rings for them to wear. Then they feasted and drank mead well into the evening. As the hour grew later, she noticed that Aevir’s hand would find her more often. He would touch her waist, her hip, her hand. His eyes became deeper and more intense. It was probably obvious to everyone what he wanted. Finally, he stood and declared that they would retire for the evening. Despite the fact that his wound was still making him limp, he picked her up and carried her out of the hall to a roar of approval from his warriors and several vulgar comments.

  ‘Aevir.’ She tried to sound angry, but that was impossible with the laughter spewing out of her. ‘Couldn’t you have been a little more subtle?’